


if you want love (the love has got to come from you)

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Love Confessions, M/M, RA!Enjolras, dumbos being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Then you’re not supposed to be here,” Grantaire says bitterly, and up close, Enjolras cannot miss the hurt that flits pass his features for a few seconds. “Isn’t there some kind of rule in your Handbook that says you aren’t supposed to be here after hours unless it’s some kind of sodding emergency, right next to the one that says that if you accidentally kiss one of your residents, you should stop interacting with them until they get the hint?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you want love (the love has got to come from you)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Bo Burnham's [From God's Perspective](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7exwjZf7Uc).

Enjolras is midway stress-writing an essay (he’s going to have to rewrite this later, when he’s calmer and his heart doesn’t hurt so much) when someone knocks on his door. He glances over at the clock — it’s 2:49 a.m., and he’s technically not on RA duty anymore.

For a moment, he thinks to just ignore it, he deserves a few hours to himself to wallow in self pity and mope over things that are not to be and chastise himself for his own stupidity, but the knocking gets more insistent, and it could be important, so he settles for sighing and getting the door. 

“Oh.” 

He’d been expecting one of his residents, Courfeyrac, actually, because Courfeyrac seems to always know the worst times to seek him out, but it’s not him. 

It’s Grantaire’s… _boyfriend_.

He swallows, forces himself to smile. “What can I do for you-?”

“Bahorel,” he offers. “And I was wondering if we could talk?”

Enjolras steps out of the way to let Bahorel into his room and closes the door after him. 

“Look,” Bahorel starts, but Enjolras doesn’t let him continue. 

“You made an observation this morning,” he tells Bahorel, “about me having feelings for Grantaire.” Bahorel’s lips quirk up slightly, and Enjolras doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, so he just barrels on. “You weren’t wrong.”

Bahorel outright smirks at him now. “I didn’t think I was.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Enjolras says. “He’s with you now, and I won’t—”

“Do you love him?” Bahorel interrupts.

“It doesn’t matter,” Enjolras clenches out, because it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter because Grantaire is with someone else now, someone else who isn’t an asshole, someone else who doesn’t make stupid choices like he does. “He’s with you—”

“Do you love him?” Bahorel repeats more forcefully this time. “Do you love him, or is this just a fleeting thing?”

Enjolras is quiet for a long moment. 

He thinks back to the night where they kissed, thinks about how he froze up and got tongue-tied when they parted, thinks about the sad slope of Grantaire’s shoulders as he walked away from him. He thinks about how much he would give to go back in time and redo all of it.

“Yes,” he says finally. “I do, love him.”

“I thought so too,” Bahorel says. “The way you look at each other is completely ridiculous. I’m pretty sure you are fooling no-one with your _nothing is going on_ story that the both of you are sticking with.”

“He isn’t cheating on you,” Enjolras tells him, insistent. “He wouldn’t—”

Bahorel rolls his eyes. “I’m not accusing him of cheating on me,” he tells Enjolras, and grins when Enjolras looks relieved. “I’m not his boyfriend, he’s my best friend.”

Enjolras’ eyes go wide and Bahorel laughs. 

“It’s on that stupid overnight stay form I had to fill in for you just now,” Bahorel says. “Or were you not looking properly because you were busy pining over R?”

“I wasn’t—” He huffs a smile at Bahorel’s snort. “I kind of was.”

Bahorel nods. “Now that I’ve helped you come to terms with your feelings, you should know that I am not afraid to go to jail,” he tells Enjolras seriously, “and I will _mess you up_ if you hurt R in any way.”

“I won’t,” Enjolras promises. 

“Good,” Bahorel says. “The way I see it, there are two ways we can proceed right now. One, I go back, cuddle my best friend, and go back to bed, or two, I can take your room while you go fix things with him.”

Enjolras can’t leave the room fast enough.

—

The lights in Grantaire’s room are all off, but he never draws the curtains, and the light from outside shines directly on Grantaire, where he’s spread out on his stomach in bed. 

Enjolras’ heart aches just looking at him.

This is a bad idea, he shouldn't be here. Why should Grantaire forgive him for the past two months? He’d been the one who pushed Grantaire away and made things horrible for them, and it wasn’t even that he had a fantastic excuse for it. The _Resident’s Handbook_ , Christ, he’d used the Handbook as a shield, even though everybody knows that Fantine and Valjean are more than liberal with the rules.

This is a bad idea, Grantaire would never forgive him.

He turns away from Grantaire and means to make a move out of the door, but his leg catches on the foot of Grantaire’s (thankfully empty) easel and it’s inevitable that the crash wakes Grantaire up. 

“B’orel?” he calls out sleepily. “‘sit an earthquake?”

Enjolras snorts at that, and then belatedly remembers that he isn’t supposed to be there. It’s too late, though, because Grantaire shoots up to a sitting position and hits the light switch. 

It takes a moment of squinting for them to both get used to the light, but then Grantaire is staring at him, lips parted in surprise, and not saying anything. 

“Hi,” Enjolras says to fill the silence.

“Right, this is a dream,” Grantaire decides, and flops back to a lying position and shuts his eyes tightly. By the time he’s reopened them, Enjolras is kneeling by the bed, looking at him. He sits up slowly and says, “A very bizarre dream that I cannot wake up from.”

“This isn’t a dream,” Enjolras tells him, and he wants to reach out, wants to take Grantaire’s hand in his, but he can’t, not yet.

“Then you’re not supposed to be here,” Grantaire says bitterly, and up close, Enjolras cannot miss the hurt that flits pass his features for a few seconds. “Isn’t there some kind of rule in your Handbook that says you aren’t supposed to be here after hours unless it’s some kind of sodding emergency, right next to the one that says that if you accidentally kiss one of your residents, you should stop interacting with them until they get the hint?”

Enjolras’ heart clenches. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” Grantaire asks.

“Everything,” Enjolras replies. “I shouldn’t have— I made a mistake. I was scared and I wasn’t thinking.” He swallows, and reminds himself that he is more eloquent than this, that he has to be more eloquent than this if he wants Grantaire to understand how sorry he is. “I’ve never done this before.”

Grantaire doesn’t say anything. Enjolras wishes in that moment that Grantaire didn’t have such a good poker face, because he can’t read anything off of his face, and he needs- He needs to know what to say to make it right. 

“I’ve never been in love before,” he says, and hears Grantaire draw in a sharp breath.

“What about the Handbook?” Grantaire asks, voice small.

Enjolras makes a noise of frustration. “I don’t care about the Handbook, I never cared about the Handbook, we can burn it for all I care, we can get everyone to burn it—”

Grantaire laughs, bright and loud, and it hits Enjolras all at once that he hasn’t heard Grantaire laugh in almost two months. He wants to keep hearing Grantaire laugh, wants to be the one who keeps _making_ him laugh. 

“Don’t let Courfeyrac hear that,” Grantaire tells him. “He would actually try to do it and then end up setting the hall on fire.”

“The hall could be on fire right now and I wouldn’t care,” Enjolras says, and isn’t surprised to find that he means it. 

Grantaire smiles at him, looks at him the way he used to do, crossed between fondness and exasperation. The look goes away when Enjolras blinks, and Grantaire ends up saying, voice thick with emotion, “You broke my heart.”

Enjolras swallows against the lump in his throat, tries to fight the sting in his eyes. “I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, R, really, I am so sorry. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me right now, but please, _please_ give me a chance to prove it to you.”

Grantaire doesn’t say anything for a long time, and with each second that passes, Enjolras’ nerves grow more frazzled. The thought of Grantaire saying no, of Grantaire asking him to leave, is horrible.

Then Grantaire’s hands are on his and he’s and tugging him up from his kneeling position and into the bed. Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire, tight enough that it must feel mildly uncomfortable, but Grantaire doesn’t complain, just buries his head in the crook of Enjolras’ neck and holds him. 

“You’re shaking,” he whispers the words into Enjolras’ skin.

“I was really nervous,” Enjolras says. “I love you.” 

Grantaire pushes himself up on his elbows to stare at Enjolras. “Say that again.”

“I love you,” Enjolras repeats.

“Again.”

“I love you,” Enjolras says, cupping Grantaire’s cheek and running his thumb over the upturned corner of his lips. 

“Okay,” Grantaire says, and he’s smiling now. “Then we’re going to be okay,” he says, and leans in to close the gap between their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com) on tumblr, come say hi!
> 
> (ETA: You can find more if you want love headcanons [here](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/tagged/if-you-want-love-series).)


End file.
